surgeon wished first to disperse this excrescence, afterwards, as they
said, to draw it to a head, and at last thought it best to open it; so
for a long time I had to suffer more from inconvenience than pain,
although towards the end of the cure the continual touching with lunar
caustic and other corrosive substances could not but give me very
disagreeable prospects for every fresh day. The physician and surgeon
both belonged to the Pious Separatists, although both were of highly
different natural characters. The surgeon, a slender, well-built man, of
easy and skilful hand, was unfortunately somewhat hectic, but endured
his condition with truly Christian patience, and did not suffer his
disease to perplex him in his profession. The physician was an
inexplicable, sly-looking, fair-spoken, and, besides, an abstruse, man,
who had quite won the confidence of the pious circle. Being active and
attentive, he was consoling to the sick; but, more than by all this, he
extended his practice by the gift of showing in the background some
mysterious medicines prepared by himself, of which no one could speak,
since with us the physicians were strictly prohibited from making up
their own prescriptions. With certain powders, which may have been some
kind of digestive, he was not so reserved, but that powerful salt, which
could only be applied in the greatest danger, was only mentioned among
believers; although no one had yet seen it or traced its effects. To
excite and strengthen our faith in the possibility of such an universal
remedy, the physician, wherever he found any susceptibility, had
recommended certain chemico-alchemical books to his patients, and given
them to understand, that, by one's own study of them, one could well
attain this treasure for one's self, which was the more necessary, as
the mode of its preparation, both for physical, and especially for
moral, reasons, could not be well communicated; nay, that in order to
comprehend, produce, and use this great work, one must know the secrets
of nature in connection, since it was not a particular, but an universal
remedy, and could indeed be produced under different forms and shapes.
My friend had listened to these enticing words. The health of the body
was too nearly allied to the health of the soul; and could a greater
benefit, a greater mercy, be shown towards others than by appropriating
to one's self a remedy by which so many sufferings could be assuaged, so
many a danger averted? She had already secretly studied Welling's "Opus
Mago-cabalisticum," for which, however, as the author himself
immediately darkens and removes the light he imparts, she was looking
about for a friend, who, in this alternation of glare and gloom, might
bear her company. It needed small incitement to inoculate me also with
this disease. I procured the work, which, like all writings of this
kind, could trace its pedigree in a direct line up to the Neo-Platonic
school. My chief labor in this book was most accurately to notice the
obscure hints by which the author refers from one passage to another,
and thus promises to reveal what he conceals, and to mark down on the
terminology which might well have been compared to that of the later
sentimentalists. Fräulein von Klettenberg guided her way between both
extremes, and seemed, with some self-complacency, to see her own
reflections in the image of Count Zindendorf, whose opinions and actions
bore witness to a higher birth and more distinguished rank. Now she
found in me what she needed, a lively young creature, striving after an
unknown happiness, who, although he could not think himself an
extraordinary sinner, yet found himself in no comfortable condition, and
was perfectly healthy neither in body nor soul. She was delighted with
what nature had given me, as well as with much which I had gained for
myself. And, if she conceded to me many advantages, this was by no means
humiliating to her: for, in the first place, she never thought of
emulating one of the male sex; and, secondly, she believed, that, in
regard to religious culture, she was very much in advance of me. My
disquiet, my impatience, my striving, my seeking, investigating, musing,
and wavering, she interpreted in her own way, and did not conceal from
me her conviction, but assured me in plain terms that all this proceeded
from my having no reconciled God. Now, I had believed from my youth
upwards that I stood on very good terms with my God,--nay, I even
fancied to myself, according to various experiences, that he might even
be in arrears to me; and I was daring enough to think that I had
something to forgive him. This presumption was grounded on my infinite
good will, to which, as it seemed to me, he should have given better
assistance. It may be imagined how often I got into disputes on this
subject with my friend, which, however, always terminated in the
friendliest way, and often, like my conversations with the old rector,
with the remark, "that I was a foolish fellow, for whom many allowances
must be made."
I was much troubled with the tumor in my neck, as the physician and
surgeon wished first to disperse this excrescence, afterwards, as they
said, to draw it to a head, and at last thought it best to open it; so
for a long time I had to suffer more from inconvenience than pain,
although towards the end of the cure the continual touching with lunar
caustic and other corrosive substances could not but give me very
disagreeable prospects for every fresh day. The physician and surgeon
both belonged to the Pious Separatists, although both were of highly
different natural characters. The surgeon, a slender, well-built man, of
easy and skilful hand, was unfortunately somewhat hectic, but endured
his condition with truly Christian patience, and did not suffer his
disease to perplex him in his profession. The physician was an
inexplicable, sly-looking, fair-spoken, and, besides, an abstruse, man,
who had quite won the confidence of the pious circle. Being active and
attentive, he was consoling to the sick; but, more than by all this, he
extended his practice by the gift of showing in the background some
mysterious medicines prepared by himself, of which no one could speak,
since with us the physicians were strictly prohibited from making up
their own prescriptions. With certain powders, which may have been some
kind of digestive, he was not so reserved, but that powerful salt, which
could only be applied in the greatest danger, was only mentioned among
believers; although no one had yet seen it or traced its effects. To
excite and strengthen our faith in the possibility of such an universal
remedy, the physician, wherever he found any susceptibility, had
recommended certain chemico-alchemical books to his patients, and given
them to understand, that, by one's own study of them, one could well
attain this treasure for one's self, which was the more necessary, as
the mode of its preparation, both for physical, and especially for
moral, reasons, could not be well communicated; nay, that in order to
comprehend, produce, and use this great work, one must know the secrets
of nature in connection, since it was not a particular, but an universal
remedy, and could indeed be produced under different forms and shapes.
My friend had listened to these enticing words. The health of the body
was too nearly allied to the health of the soul; and could a greater
benefit, a greater mercy, be shown towards others than by appropriating
to one's self a remedy by which so many sufferings could be assuaged, so
many a danger averted? She had already secretly studied Welling's "Opus
Mago-cabalisticum," for which, however, as the author himself
immediately darkens and removes the light he imparts, she was looking
about for a friend, who, in this alternation of glare and gloom, might
bear her company. It needed small incitement to inoculate me also with
this disease. I procured the work, which, like all writings of this
kind, could trace its pedigree in a direct line up to the Neo-Platonic
school. My chief labor in this book was most accurately to notice the
obscure hints by which the author refers from one passage to another,
and thus promises to reveal what he conceals, and to mark down on the
margin the number of the page where such passages as should explain each
other were to be found. But even thus the book still remained dark and
unintelligible enough, except that one at last studied one's self into a
certain terminology, and, by using it according to one's own fancy,
believed that one was, at any rate, saying, if not understanding,
something. The work mentioned before makes very honorable mention of its
predecessors, and we were incited to investigate those original sources
themselves. We turned to the works of Theophrastus, Paracelsus, and
Basilius Valentinus, as well as to those of Helmont, Starkey, and
others, whose doctrines and directions, resting more or less on nature
and imagination, we endeavored to see into and follow out. I was
particularly pleased with the "Aurea Catena Homeri," in which nature,
though perhaps in fantastical fashion, is represented in a beautiful
combination; and thus sometimes by ourselves, sometimes together, we
employed much time on these singularities, and spent the evenings of a
long winter--during which I was compelled to keep my chamber--very
agreeably, since we three (my mother being included) were more delighted
with these secrets than we could have been at their elucidation.
In the mean time, a very severe trial was preparing for me: for a
disturbed, and, one might even say, for certain moments, destroyed
digestion, excited such symptoms, that, in great tribulation, I thought
I should lose my life; and none of the remedies applied would produce
any further effect. In this last extremity my distressed mother
constrained the embarrassed physician with the greatest vehemence to
come out with his universal medicine. After a long refusal, he hastened
home at the dead of night, and returned with a little glass of
crystallized dry salt, which was dissolved in water, and swallowed by
the patient. It had a decidedly alkaline taste. The salt was scarcely
taken than my situation appeared relieved; and from that moment the
disease took a turn which, by degrees, led to my recovery. I need not
say how much this strengthened and heightened our faith in our
physician, and our industry to share in such a treasure.
My friend, who, without parents or brothers and sisters, lived in a
large, well-situated house, had already before this begun to purchase
herself a little air-furnace, alembics, and retorts of moderate size,
and, in accordance with the hints of Welling, and the significant signs
of our physician and master, operated principally on iron, in which the
most healing powers were said to be concealed, if one only knew how to
open it. And as the volatile salt which must be produced made a great
figure in all the writings with which we were acquainted; so, for these
operations, alkalies also were required, which, while they flowed away
into the air, were to unite with these superterrestrial things, and at
last produce, /per se/, a mysterious and excellent neutral salt.
No sooner was I in some measure restored, and, favored by the change in
the season, once more able to occupy my old gable-chamber, than I also
began to provide myself with a little apparatus. A small air-furnace
with a sand-bath was prepared; and I very soon learned to change the
glass alembics, with a piece of burning match-cord, into vessels in
which the different mixtures were to be evaporated. Now were the strange
ingredients of the macrocosm and microcosm handled in an odd, mysterious
manner; and, before all, I attempted to produce neutral salts in an
unheard-of way. But what, for a long time, kept me busy most, was the
so-called /Liquor Silicum/ (flint-juice), which is made by melting
down pure quartz-flint with a proper proportion of alkali, whence
results a transparent glass, which melts away on exposure to the air,
and exhibits a beautiful clear fluidity. Whoever has once prepared this
himself, and seen it with his own eyes, will not blame those who believe
in a maiden earth, and in the possibility of producing further effects
upon it by means of it. I had become quite skilful in preparing this
/Liquor Silicum/; the fine white flints which are found in the Main
furnished a perfect material for it: and I was not wanting in the other
requisites, nor in diligence. But I wearied at last, because I could not
but remark that the flinty substance was by no means so closely combined
with the salt as I had philosophically imagined, for it very easily
separated itself again; and this most beautiful mineral fluidity, which,
to my greatest astonishment, had sometimes appeared in the form of an
animal jelly, always deposited a powder, which I was forced to pronounce
the finest flint dust, but which gave not the least sign of any thing
productive in its nature from which one could have hoped to see this
maiden earth pass into the maternal state.
Strange and unconnected as these operations were, I yet learned many
things from them. I paid strict attention to all the crystallizations
that might occur, and became acquainted with the external forms of many
natural things: and, inasmuch as I well knew that in modern times
chemical subjects were treated more methodically, I wished to get a
general conception of them; although, as a half-adept, I had very little
respect for the apothecaries and all those who operated with common
fire. However, the chemical "Compendium" of Boerhaave attracted me
powerfully, and led me on to read several of his writings, in which
(since, moreover, my tedious illness had inclined me towards medical
subjects) I found an inducement to study also the "Aphorisms" of this
excellent man, which I was glad to stamp upon my mind and in my memory.
Another employment, somewhat more human, and by far more useful for my
cultivation at the moment, was reading through the letters which I had
written home from Leipzig. Nothing reveals more with respect to
ourselves, than when we again see before us that which has proceeded
from us years before, so that we can now consider ourselves as an object
of contemplation. But, of course, I was as yet too young, and the epoch
which was represented by those papers was still too near. As in our
younger years we do not in general easily cast off a certain self-
complacent conceit, this especially shows itself in despising what we
have been but a little time before; for while, indeed, we perceive, as
we advance from step to step, that those things which we regard as good
and excellent in ourselves and others do not stand their ground, we
think we can best extricate ourselves from this dilemma by ourselves
throwing away what we cannot preserve. So it was with me also. For as in
Leipzig I had gradually learned to set little value on my childish
labors, so now my academical course seemed to me likewise of small
account; and I did not understand, that, for this very reason, it must
be of great value to me, as it elevated me to a higher degree of
observation and insight. My father had carefully collected and sewed
together the letters I had written to him, as well as those to my
sister; nay, he had even corrected them with attention, and improved the
mistakes, both in writing and in grammar.
What first struck me in these letters was their exterior: I was shocked
at an incredible carelessness in the handwriting, which extended from
October, 1765, to the middle of the following January. But, in the
middle of March, there appeared all at once a quite compressed, orderly
hand, such as I used formerly to employ in writing for a prize. My
astonishment resolved itself into gratitude towards good Gellert, who,
as I now well remembered, whenever we handed in our essays to him,
represented to us, in his hearty tone of voice, that it was our sacred
duty to practise our hand as much, nay, more, than our style. He
repeated this as often as he caught sight of any scrawled, careless
writing, on which occasion he often said that he would much like to make
a good hand of his pupils the principal end in his instructions; the
more so as he had often remarked that a good hand led the way to a good
style.
I could further notice that the French and English passages in my
letters, although not free from blunders, were nevertheless written with
facility and freedom. These languages I had likewise continued to
practise in my correspondence with George Schlosser, who was still at
Treptow; and I had remained in constant communication with him, by which
I was instructed in many secular affairs (for things did not always turn
out with him quite as he had hoped), and acquired an ever increasing
confidence in his earnest, noble way of thinking.
Another consideration which could not escape me in going over these
letters, was that my good father, with the best intentions, had done me
a special mischief, and had led me into that odd way of life into which
I had fallen at last. He had repeatedly warned me against card-playing;
but Frau Hofrath Böhme, as long as she lived, contrived to persuade me,
after her own fashion, by declaring that my father's warnings were only
against the abuse. Now, as I likewise saw the advantages of it in
society, I readily submitted to being led by her. I had indeed the sense
of play, but not the spirit of play: I learned all games easily and
rapidly, but I could never keep up the proper attention for a whole
evening. Therefore, however good a beginning I would make, I invariably
failed at the end, and made myself and others lose; through which I went
off, always out of humor, either to the supper-table or out of the
company. Scarcely had Madame Böhme died, who, moreover, had no longer
kept me in practice during her tedious illness, when my father's
doctrine gained force: I at first begged to be excused from joining the
card-tables; and, as they now did not know what else to do with me, I
became even more of a burden to myself than to others, and declined the
invitations, which then became more rare, and at last ceased altogether.
Play, which is much to be recommended to young people, especially to
those who incline to be practical, and wish to look about in the world
for themselves, could never, indeed, become a passion with me; for I
never got any farther, no matter how long I might have been playing. Had
any one given me a general view of the subject, and made me observe how
here certain signs and more or less of chance form a kind of material,
at which judgment and activity can exercise themselves; had any one made
me see several games at once,--I might sooner have become reconciled.
With all this, at the time of which I am now speaking, I had, from the
above considerations, come to the conviction, that one should not avoid
social games, but should rather strive after a certain skill in them.
Time is infinitely long; and each day is a vessel into which a great
deal may be poured, if one would actually fill it up.
Thus variously was I occupied in my solitude; the more so, as the
departed spirits of the different tastes to which I had from time to
time devoted myself had an opportunity to re-appear. I then again took
up drawing: and as I always wished to labor directly from nature, or
rather from reality, I made a picture of my chamber, with its furniture,
and the persons who were in it; and, when this no more amused me, I
represented all sorts of town-tales, which were told at the time, and in
which interest was taken. All this was not without character and a
certain taste; but unfortunately the figures lacked proportion and the
proper vigor, besides which the execution was extremely misty. My
father, who continued to take pleasure in these things, wished to have
them more distinct, wanting every thing to be finished and properly
completed. He therefore had them mounted and surrounded with ruled
lines; nay, the painter Morgenstern, his domestic artist,--the same who
afterwards made himself known, and indeed famous, by his church-views,--
had to insert the perspective lines of the rooms and chambers, which
then, indeed, stood in pretty harsh contrast with those cloudy looking
figures. In this manner he thought he would make me gain greater
accuracy; and, to please him, I drew various objects of still life, in
which, since the originals stood as patterns before me, I could work
with more distinctness and precision. At last I took it into my head to
etch once more. I had composed a tolerably interesting landscape, and
felt myself very happy when I could look out for the old receipts given
me by Stock, and could, at my work, call to mind those pleasant times. I
soon bit the plate and had a proof taken. Unluckily the composition was
without light and shade, and I now tormented myself to bring in both;
but, as it was not quite clear to me what was really the essential
point, I could not finish. Up to this time I had been quite well, after
my own fashion; but now a disease attacked me which had never troubled
me before. My throat, namely, had become completely sore, and
particularly what is called the "uvula" very much inflamed: I could only
swallow with great pain, and the physicians did not know what to make of
it. They tormented me with gargles and hair-pencils, but could not free
me from my misery. At last it struck me that I had not been careful
enough in the biting of my plates, and that, by often and passionately
repeating it, I had contracted this disease, and always revived and
increased it. To the physicians this cause was plausible, and very soon
certain on my leaving my etching and biting, and that so much the more
readily as the attempt had by no means turned out well, and I had more
reason to conceal than to exhibit my labors; for which I consoled myself
the more easily, as I very soon saw myself free from the troublesome
disease. Upon this I could not refrain from the reflection, that my
similar occupations at Leipzig might have greatly contributed to those
diseases from which I had suffered so much. It is, indeed, a tedious,
and withal a melancholy, business to take too much care of ourselves,
and of what injures and benefits us; but there is no question but that,
with the wonderful idiosyncrasy of human nature on the one side, and the
infinite variety in the mode of life and pleasure on the other, it is a
wonder that the human race has not worn itself out long ago. Human
nature appears to possess a peculiar kind of toughness and many-
sidedness, since it subdues every thing which approaches it, or which it
takes into itself, and, if it cannot assimilate, at least makes it
indifferent. In case of any great excess, indeed, it must yield to the
elements in spite of all resistance, as the many endemic diseases and
the effects of brandy convince us. Could we, without being morbidly
anxious, keep watch over ourselves as to what operates favorably or
unfavorably upon us in our complicated civil and social life, and would
we leave off what is actually pleasant to us as an enjoyment, for the
sake of the evil consequences, we should thus know how to remove with
ease many an inconvenience which, with a constitution otherwise sound,
often troubles us more than even a disease. Unfortunately, it is in
dietetics as in morals,--we cannot see into a fault till we have got rid
of it; by which nothing is gained, for the next fault is not like the
preceding one, and therefore cannot be recognized under the same form.